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maybe when the coast is clear - Coelacanth - April 27, 2018
Backdated to April 22, 2018. Please allow @Lavender and @Grayday to post first. Bad Dog Seelie is back, @Komodo, @Moorhen, and @Stockholm ♥
I struggled with tenses in this thread; sorry. ;-;
Coelacanth’s oven is preheated and ready for pupcakes.
TRAVEL LOG
April 13, 2018: Sea Lion Shores
April 14, 2018: Horizon Ridge
April 15, 2018: Raven’s Watch
April 16, 2018: Hushed Willows
April 16 — 18, 2018: Morningside
April 19, 2018: Hushed Willows
April 20, 2018: Barrow Fields
April 21, 2018: Ravensblood Forest
I struggled with tenses in this thread; sorry. ;-;
Coelacanth’s oven is preheated and ready for pupcakes.
TRAVEL LOG
April 13, 2018: Sea Lion Shores
April 14, 2018: Horizon Ridge
April 15, 2018: Raven’s Watch
April 16, 2018: Hushed Willows
April 16 — 18, 2018: Morningside
April 19, 2018: Hushed Willows
April 20, 2018: Barrow Fields
April 21, 2018: Ravensblood Forest
Coelacanth, Lavender, and Grayday reached the Southern Strand just after midnight.
For Seelie, the journey home had been a pleasant one — but she couldn’t speak for her companions. The Aralez’s love for the willow grove had drawn her back through the maze of winnowing, whispering tendrils; belatedly, she’d realized the obstacle course it presented for Grayday, but he’d insisted that he was fine. She’d done her best not to let him knock into any of the trunks, as had Lavender, but the sheepdog worried in retrospect that being in a territory full of long-limbed trees had been a little disconcerting for him no matter what he’d said or how many times he’d said it. She’d been relieved, therefore, when they’d bedded down in a span of less congested fields the following night, where the scent of saline mingled with new spring grass and the crash of the sea seemed to ricochet off the barrows. Stockholm! The bloodfire had chased away sleep and hunger in an all consuming tide, but despite her hormonal state, she’d maintained a measured pace.
The third day of travel had revealed a minor tragedy: Constantine and Durnehviir had vacated Ravensblood Forest. Seelie had never gone to visit them despite her best intentions and she regretted it sorely now, for gone was any possibility of reunion with the fiery-eyed Mayfair and her golden-eyed Mouse. The bad news had put a barb in her temper, but she’d been careful not to vent her frustrations during her interactions with Grayday and Lavender; if anything, she’d probably been annoyingly clingy, seeking physical contact to soothe at least some of the itch beneath her skin.
Now, as she gently shepherded Grayday and Lavender further inland, she pantomimed howling. Perhaps one of them would do the honors, as she was still unable to do so. “Welcome home,” she breathed to the Morningsiders, leading them to an open clearing with a burbling stream.
For Seelie, the journey home had been a pleasant one — but she couldn’t speak for her companions. The Aralez’s love for the willow grove had drawn her back through the maze of winnowing, whispering tendrils; belatedly, she’d realized the obstacle course it presented for Grayday, but he’d insisted that he was fine. She’d done her best not to let him knock into any of the trunks, as had Lavender, but the sheepdog worried in retrospect that being in a territory full of long-limbed trees had been a little disconcerting for him no matter what he’d said or how many times he’d said it. She’d been relieved, therefore, when they’d bedded down in a span of less congested fields the following night, where the scent of saline mingled with new spring grass and the crash of the sea seemed to ricochet off the barrows. Stockholm! The bloodfire had chased away sleep and hunger in an all consuming tide, but despite her hormonal state, she’d maintained a measured pace.
The third day of travel had revealed a minor tragedy: Constantine and Durnehviir had vacated Ravensblood Forest. Seelie had never gone to visit them despite her best intentions and she regretted it sorely now, for gone was any possibility of reunion with the fiery-eyed Mayfair and her golden-eyed Mouse. The bad news had put a barb in her temper, but she’d been careful not to vent her frustrations during her interactions with Grayday and Lavender; if anything, she’d probably been annoyingly clingy, seeking physical contact to soothe at least some of the itch beneath her skin.
Now, as she gently shepherded Grayday and Lavender further inland, she pantomimed howling. Perhaps one of them would do the honors, as she was still unable to do so. “Welcome home,” she breathed to the Morningsiders, leading them to an open clearing with a burbling stream.
RE: maybe when the coast is clear - Grayday Sr. - April 27, 2018
The journey had been a bit much for Grayday - especially when it came time to cross the sandbar. He'd never liked the ocean, and he worried some of the waves might just sweep poor Lavender away - but they'd made it, and Grayday trudged close behind Coelacanth to combat the confusion of walking blindly through the sand. Eventually they bumped to a stop, Grayday's nose shoving hard into Seelie's flank before he stumbled back a step or two.
He did not howl, of course, having no idea that Seelie indicated they were welcome to do so. Instead, he gave a wag of his tail and stumbled toward the stream he could hear and smell, hoping to wash the evidence of saltwater from his pelt and throat.
"You okay, Lav?" he asked, head swinging 'round in search of his daughter.
RE: maybe when the coast is clear - Moor - April 27, 2018
(Un)luckily for Coelacanth, Moorhen needed no howls to alert her to their presence. She'd been watching, and now that she had her target in sight, she was never letting her go again. "Shadow!" she accused, walking stiffly toward her leader with a very unsubmissive curve to her tail. She knew she was being bad, it was just - "How! How can you - "
The hair stood up along her spine - she didn't know the wolves that her Shadow had around her, even if they seemed nice enough. They were probably friends, and so Moorhen tried to ignore them and focus on her shepherd, but it was hard. Especially when the bigger one turned his head toward her, apparently very interested in what she had to say.
"We - we were worry," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper as she drew closer, shooting a quelling look at the great silver male. This was none of his business! "Stock went to look. Because you were gone." The last word was said with no small amount of acid, but Coelacanth would likely see the deep-seated insecurity behind the anger in her lamb's words.
RE: maybe when the coast is clear - Lavender1 - April 28, 2018
Feel free to skip me whenever.
She was more than happy to accompany her father and her friend on their adventure, and was keen to put on a good performance for them both. Even though Lavender had her misgivings (being small, not being a warrior, having no idea where they were going aside from basic concept of direction) she trusted that Grayday had the answers and happily aided him as they made their way. It was with a freeing sense of abandon that they had left Morningside on this trip — just the girl and her father, out to save the world (or something dramatic like that).By the time night fell though, Lavender's feet were sore and she was struggling to keep the pace along the beach. It was difficult to hike across the sand for long periods of time, and it was late, and they had been travelling for quite a while (which she wasn't really used to, aside from the relocation of the family to Dawnlark Plains). The trio had visited so many places and she had been charmed by each in turn, although her interest waned over time as anyone's might. Lavender was tired. There was no getting around this fact.
When they came to a halt, she was so far behind Grayday that there was ample time for her to react and avoid a collision. Lavender tilted her head towards her petite friend in the dark and listened to her calling out, but remained quiet - a little sullen - but she answered her father with a friendly nuzzle of her cheek against his shoulder as she closed the distance, and said,
I'm here,because in the dark it was hard to tell where each person was, save for Seelie, who appeared as a wolf-shaped void against a backdrop of glittering ocean.
She opened her mouth again to say something, but a yawn came out of her instead. Just as it ended and Lavender's mouth slid closed she felt herself blush (she'd all but yawned right in his face!) and then there was another body on the scene. A girl came careening along the beach towards Seelie — and Lavender felt a strong wave of uncertainty roll across herself, rooting her close to her father. She flashed a glance to Seelie but couldn't keep her gaze off of the strange girl with the odd speech pattern. Later, when they were finally safe among the sea sprite's people and settled to sleep, Lavender would reflect back upon this moment and realize how cowardly she was being. So much for a great adventure.
RE: maybe when the coast is clear - Coelacanth - April 30, 2018
Coelacanth didn’t correct her lamb for her insubordinate posture or accusatory speech; she knew in her bones that what she had done was wrong, not only as a mate and a guardian but as one of the pack’s leaders. If she and Moorhen had been alone she would have groveled before the girl and begged forgiveness, but before Lavender and Grayday she felt she need to keep her composure and maintain control. “I am sorry. Home now. Stockholm home soon,” she promised, an exhausted whine trembling from her lips. She turned her muzzle toward the Morningsiders with as reassuring a smile as she could manage for Lavender. “Moorhen, friends,” she pressed gently, Neptune eyes fixed intently on the mahogany-eyed girl. “Welcome friends — Grrrayday, La — Laf — Lavender.” She made to cross the distance between them, respectful of Moorhen’s space and willing to back off immediately if the girl seemed begrudging, though if her lamb allowed it the sheepdog would nibble gently at her withers. “Sing @Driftwood.” She thought perhaps the kindhearted wolf would be a great asset in helping the newcomers settle in.
RE: maybe when the coast is clear - Komodo - April 30, 2018
Just like Moorhen, Komodo had not been that far from the strand when the roving trio came onto the island’s sandy stage. Had Komodo been as worried as the other’s about Coelacanth’s unceremonious disappearance? No, but it was only he who knew it was not as unceremonious and uncalled for as Moorhen and Stockholm might have believed. He was loathe to tell the rest of the pack of the calamity that transpired within the caverns, of the yelling and the tension; no, that would not bode well for the earthstalker, so he calmly let them go on believing she had simply vanished — but inside, he blamed himself for her exodus. A woman who didn’t like to be verbally accosted? Go figure.
The mottled medicine man hung out by the shores, mentally fatigued and eager for a distraction. It was almost as if he was expecting to see her arrive back at any moment — and though the sheepdog was very, very clear about her expectations for their friendship, there was a small part that hoped to see her trotting back to him, very sorry for how she had treated him and ready to make amends and babies. Days and nights came to pass and when the aralez did finally return, not only did that not happen — but she was accompanied by others.
The older man he vaguely recognized. If Komodo thought deep and hard about it, he would remember him from the Hunter’s Moon, but at the moment he and the little, tailless creature were classified only as Seelie’s Friends. With a deep and cleansing breath, Komodo painted a cordial expression upon his austere visage and strode forward to greet them. He was silent until he had approached them fully, rather than calling down the beach as he was wont to do. “Big ears,” he acknowledged in a not unfriendly manner, dipping his crown towards her in particular and pretending the thick miasma of heat scent was simply. not. there.
“Ah din’ know company’d be here,” he charmed, lifting his gaze to consider the man who matched him in age and to glimpse the girl at his withers. “Ah’might ‘uh cleaned the place up’a bit.”
The mottled medicine man hung out by the shores, mentally fatigued and eager for a distraction. It was almost as if he was expecting to see her arrive back at any moment — and though the sheepdog was very, very clear about her expectations for their friendship, there was a small part that hoped to see her trotting back to him, very sorry for how she had treated him and ready to make amends and babies. Days and nights came to pass and when the aralez did finally return, not only did that not happen — but she was accompanied by others.
The older man he vaguely recognized. If Komodo thought deep and hard about it, he would remember him from the Hunter’s Moon, but at the moment he and the little, tailless creature were classified only as Seelie’s Friends. With a deep and cleansing breath, Komodo painted a cordial expression upon his austere visage and strode forward to greet them. He was silent until he had approached them fully, rather than calling down the beach as he was wont to do. “Big ears,” he acknowledged in a not unfriendly manner, dipping his crown towards her in particular and pretending the thick miasma of heat scent was simply. not. there.
“Ah din’ know company’d be here,” he charmed, lifting his gaze to consider the man who matched him in age and to glimpse the girl at his withers. “Ah’might ‘uh cleaned the place up’a bit.”
RE: maybe when the coast is clear - Driftwood - April 30, 2018
He had been accustoming himself to his new digs bit by bit, and although he had smelled many wolves about there were few he had met directly. It was exciting, the thrill of the conquering explorer as he came upon each new sight and smell—although no matter what he might pretend conquering was probably more than a little, well, uppity than the real truth. But today came the most exciting encounter yet, though it was accompanied by a sizeable dose of apprehension: today he heard himself called for. It sent shivers down his spine but he climbed out from his unimpressively shallow hollow in the cupping roots of a large tree the moment he heard it. He caught his lip on his tooth and stood there for just a moment, trying to puzzle out whose voice it was he'd heard, anyhow, and if it was someone he'd be expected to recognize or not. But the only guarantee, really, was that if he didn't listen to it he'd be bound to get into trouble. With a deep breath he set out at a distance-eating trot, wending uneasily around the trees and keeping his nose and ears on high alert as he scanned the woodsy vistas before him. His first clue was the intermingled scents both new and old that came wafting strongly to his nares; the second was his spotting their sources in a loose knot on the beach, as he emerged from the woods and paused. His eyes roved over the gathered crowd and tried to pinpoint who had called him, and for what.
Driftwood had thought he'd responded pretty promptly, but it seemed like others had beaten him to the punch regardless. His tail lifted a little and then drooped again in uncertainty, his flickering ears likewise telegraphing anxiety— but all that was swept away as his eyes fixated upon a willowy black figure. His paw popped up off the ground, but it took him just a moment to call her name to mind again. Then,
Seelie!he yipped in delight, and went galumphing across the sand toward her, tail all awaggle and eyes eagerly lit up. Really, she had the most amazing scent, the most bewitching grace— Driftwood was completely clueless as to the identity of all these others for the moment, but somewhere deep inside him he felt an unshakeable conviction that if Seelie had brought them, it would be all right; that good old head honcho, that most wondrous and kind and talented of creatures would surely keep him from any harm. In his eyes, Seelie could do no, wrong, and if Coelacanth had chosen to gather these others here too then by golly they were all right in his book as well.
It was only as he burst up upon Seelie at a velocity likely to cause a small collision, eagerly reaching his nose for hers, that it crossed his mind that maybe not all of these people had been deliberately brought here. Maybe, just maybe, Seelie had meant to call him for help! The startlement on Driftwood's face as this thought flitted by was plain to see, and then he took a big step back and, cocking his head back at a more watchful angle, looked out across the crowd with a furrow in his brow and a small, frowny droop to his previously wide-smiling face. This was a pretty big group of strangers to him, after all. And maybe to Seelie, too...? He glanced at her sidewise, uncertain. But Seelie had promised him he could ask questions, hadn't she?
Who're all these guys?he wanted to know, a little plaintively. Please, head honcho, give me a clue as to how I should greet all of them. Driftwood wasn't opposed to giving each of them nearly as enthusiastic a welcome as Seelie herself, but he was glad he'd thought to check in with his amazing-beyond-words superior here, first.
Komodo's scent blended in with the others', at the moment, and was not one his memory had recently refreshed itself with, though his frown and furrows deepend just a little in puzzlement and apprehension both as his eyes drifted across the bulky male. This one, in particular, made him nervous and had his hackles raising just a few hairs higher in alarm, though Driftwood wasn't certain exactly why.
Do I know you?he muttered, although mostly under his breath and to himself. Cursed brain; what a time for it to choose to fail him. This was important, and Driftwood wanted to make sure that Seelie knew he could be counted on when he was called for, in particular. Driftwood straightened up with a little more proud authority at the thought, and ogled Komodo with continued confused forgetfulness, but with a tinge of watchful obedience: if my leader so commands I will interfere with your suspicious intentions, you nervousness-inducing dog wolf you.
RE: maybe when the coast is clear - Coelacanth - May 02, 2018
Regret and love stabbed at Coelacanth’s tender heart as she gazed forlornly at her lamb; the wound she’d dealt the already insecure girl would not heal easily, and she would have to do her best to give Moorhen something strong and steady to trust in and hold on to in the days to come.
Just as the banded female’s cry sundered the predawn quiet, the Earthstalker arrived on the scene — and something inside Coelacanth quailed even as her posture subtly shifted. Her fox-fine muzzle lifted a little higher; the noodly wriggle of her waving tail slowed to a cordial tick-tock; and the warmth in her Neptune eyes cooled a fraction. The pack’s Vedmak was the one wolf Seelie did not feel up to facing. In many ways, it was Komodo who had driven her from the island in the first place, though she still greedily hoarded all the associated guilt. “Big Ears,” he called her, just the way he used to, and her feathered tail sketched a flurry of delight, involuntary and guileless. Still, she knew that they’d never truly find their way back to such an innocent, untroubled place — they had sheltered in Shangri-La but no wolf could live there. “Modo,” she breathed quietly, tongue curling around a collection of syllables that would reintroduce their company —
— but before she could, “Seelie!” Driftwood yipped, and careened across the sand in a puppyish tumble. She nibbled at the bridge of his muzzle, whuffing a soft greeting, and kept her expression serene as she made eye contact with each wolf present — with the exception of Grayday. “All friends,” she said, though her expression was quizzical and her head tilted curiously as Driftwood regarded Komodo with open confusion. “Morningside family — Grayday, Lavender.” She allowed an exaggerated pause between each offered name in case the group wanted to utter a more personal introduction. “Vedmak, leader, Komodo. Seawolf, Moorhen. T-Tauhou, new wolf, Driftwood. All friends,” she summed up, enunciating these two words with emphasis.
“Driftwood, Modo, h-help?” she whispered, meeting Komodo’s gaze with some reluctance. They were going to have to talk, but now was not the time or place. Her throat was already beginning to ache with the strain of pitching her whispers to carry over the roll of the sea. “Water, food, rrrest.” She gestured with her muzzle toward the small, mottled girl and her silver-furred father, then circled around to Grayday’s side with a soft whuff to clue him in to her approach. “Safe,” she promised him, nosing at the underside of his chin. She needed to address things with Moorhen first and foremost, but she didn’t want her Morningside family to feel slighted.
Just as the banded female’s cry sundered the predawn quiet, the Earthstalker arrived on the scene — and something inside Coelacanth quailed even as her posture subtly shifted. Her fox-fine muzzle lifted a little higher; the noodly wriggle of her waving tail slowed to a cordial tick-tock; and the warmth in her Neptune eyes cooled a fraction. The pack’s Vedmak was the one wolf Seelie did not feel up to facing. In many ways, it was Komodo who had driven her from the island in the first place, though she still greedily hoarded all the associated guilt. “Big Ears,” he called her, just the way he used to, and her feathered tail sketched a flurry of delight, involuntary and guileless. Still, she knew that they’d never truly find their way back to such an innocent, untroubled place — they had sheltered in Shangri-La but no wolf could live there. “Modo,” she breathed quietly, tongue curling around a collection of syllables that would reintroduce their company —
— but before she could, “Seelie!” Driftwood yipped, and careened across the sand in a puppyish tumble. She nibbled at the bridge of his muzzle, whuffing a soft greeting, and kept her expression serene as she made eye contact with each wolf present — with the exception of Grayday. “All friends,” she said, though her expression was quizzical and her head tilted curiously as Driftwood regarded Komodo with open confusion. “Morningside family — Grayday, Lavender.” She allowed an exaggerated pause between each offered name in case the group wanted to utter a more personal introduction. “Vedmak, leader, Komodo. Seawolf, Moorhen. T-Tauhou, new wolf, Driftwood. All friends,” she summed up, enunciating these two words with emphasis.
“Driftwood, Modo, h-help?” she whispered, meeting Komodo’s gaze with some reluctance. They were going to have to talk, but now was not the time or place. Her throat was already beginning to ache with the strain of pitching her whispers to carry over the roll of the sea. “Water, food, rrrest.” She gestured with her muzzle toward the small, mottled girl and her silver-furred father, then circled around to Grayday’s side with a soft whuff to clue him in to her approach. “Safe,” she promised him, nosing at the underside of his chin. She needed to address things with Moorhen first and foremost, but she didn’t want her Morningside family to feel slighted.
RE: maybe when the coast is clear - Grayday Sr. - May 06, 2018
There were a lot of new wolves arriving - some of them sounding more friendly than others. Grayday positioned himself in front of his daughter, the fur along his spine bristling as many voices converged. Something that wasn't Lavender drew close to him. A low growl ticked in his throat, but was headed off by Coelacanth's soft assurance. He returned her nuzzle, turning his head and catching her velvet muzzle with his tongue.
"Okay," he said uncertainly, still hovering protectively over his daughter.
RE: maybe when the coast is clear - Moor - May 06, 2018
Moorhen did not miss the look that passed between her Shadow and the Angakkuq man, nor the tightening of the sheepdog's stance. Her eyes narrowed in response, and she pushed herself between the pair with a huff of high dudgeon, probably causing a scene and making a general nuisance of herself.
Her head whipped 'round when the Shadow pronounced them all friends - Moorhen did not consider any but Coelacanth of the gathered wovles as such - but she simply let out a little grumble and resolved to play nice. If the Shadow trusted them, Moorhen would tolerate their presence until they proved themselves to be intolerable.
RE: maybe when the coast is clear - Komodo - May 15, 2018
Komodo was thoroughly annoyed by the boy’s comment, do I know you?, because yes, they did indeed know each other. Was the boy daft? Komodo had been in the healing business for longer than he cared to remember, and had cared for far worse than this, as he was a rather empathetic man at his heart of hearts — but there something about the young wastrel, who skittered about so wide-eyed and guileless, that continued to irk him. But the earthstalker’s visage did not change and remained placid, as smooth as a lake on a windless day. Instead, he simply ignored the younger thing, and did not deign to respond to such an inane question.
At the same time, or perhaps directly right after, the banded girl moved between he and Coelacanth, which simultaneously soured his mood and inspired gratitude within him; but the more annoyed he was, the more stoic he became. He was essentially an obelisk as the Aralez commenced with introductions and then pawned their guests off on him to accomplish his duties as Vedmak.
Of course he would, and he would do it with a smile and be generally convivial and concordant — but he would not be doing it with the forgetful Tauhou at his side. Komodo lifted his gilded gaze and beckoned the group forward as Seelie provided physical encouragement. “Yeah,” he corroborated, assuming further responsibility of this meeting. “I kin give y'all the gran’ tour.” He took a step forward towards the island’s heart, but then reeled back half a step and passed Driftwood a sidelong glance. “Yew… kin yah make sure the caches ar’ full?” he orchestrated, hopefully harmlessly discarding him for bit.
At the same time, or perhaps directly right after, the banded girl moved between he and Coelacanth, which simultaneously soured his mood and inspired gratitude within him; but the more annoyed he was, the more stoic he became. He was essentially an obelisk as the Aralez commenced with introductions and then pawned their guests off on him to accomplish his duties as Vedmak.
Of course he would, and he would do it with a smile and be generally convivial and concordant — but he would not be doing it with the forgetful Tauhou at his side. Komodo lifted his gilded gaze and beckoned the group forward as Seelie provided physical encouragement. “Yeah,” he corroborated, assuming further responsibility of this meeting. “I kin give y'all the gran’ tour.” He took a step forward towards the island’s heart, but then reeled back half a step and passed Driftwood a sidelong glance. “Yew… kin yah make sure the caches ar’ full?” he orchestrated, hopefully harmlessly discarding him for bit.
RE: maybe when the coast is clear - Driftwood - May 16, 2018
All friends, Seelie reassured, and at those words Driftwood lowered his guard, moved back a step and offered up a benign smile instead. He looked around at all the other wolves being introduced and gave a polite wag of his sand-and-earth-furred tail even as he wondered how on earth he was ever going to keep all these individuals straight. It was hard enough to remember one face at a time, let alone a whole gaggle like this! Driftwood swallowed any complaints he might have made and instead kept his ear cocked attentively towards his leader as he looked around and struggled to mark them all down in his head one after another.
His eyes did linger on the sturdy, intimidatingly red-eyed female who growled softly—but only a little, and not seeming to mean it too seriously. Driftwood's brow furrowed a little in puzzled concern at the noise, but he glanced at Coelacanth again and held her words firmly in mind. Friends. FRIENDS. We will all be friends. The burnt-brown small female held obediently to those words too, despite Drift's concerns to the contrary; perhaps she just had to express her opinions on the matter before she too could hold the peace. The noise stilled Driftwood's tail even so, though, and he moved with more caution around her.
His brow furrowed a little deeper as he squinted in deeper confusion at the growl that emerged from the gray-shaded male as well as the even-stranger eyes that...didn't seem to quite be presently working? Driftwood was distracted from further consideration of him or the splotchy girl hovering behind him however by Seelie's request for assistance, and not long after, Komodo's rumbling suggestion that Driftwood check the caches' fullness.
Right!he said after only a moment's hesitation.
The caches!Great... except Driftwood had either never known or had forgotten where these caches were. Although...perhaps he could net two birds with one leap, here.
Are there particular caches we should check first, Seelie?He turned with worried and inquiring eyes to the gray-nuzzling Aralez. She needed water, food, and rest, and these caches could probably offer at least two of those items if not all three— and meantime Komodo could take care of and keep an eye on these strangers (to Driftwood, at least, if not Coelacanth herself). And if one of the three was lacking perhaps Driftwood could find that one himself. This wasn't a bad plan, not at all. He flattened his ears briefly and waggled his tail at 'Modo in gratitude for the notion, though the Vedmak didn't seem nearly as pleased with his own plan as the Tauhou was. Well. Komodo was obviously a stoic old thing, so perhaps that wasn't entirely surprising. Meantime Driftwood energetically placed himself at Seelie's side once more, chest puffing up just a little as he gladly prepared to lend the requested assistance—which he'd blithely assumed the whispery Seelie needed for herself. Someone was likely to poke the inevitable pin into his balloon shortly, undoubtedly.
RE: maybe when the coast is clear - Coelacanth - May 18, 2018
We can probably close this up, if we want to. ♥
Maybe Moorhen’s behavior wasn’t all that appropriate given the current hierarchy of Undersea, but Coelacanth appreciated it. She nibbled affectionately at the steely-muscled curve of the girl’s hip before turning her attention somewhat obliquely toward the Earthstalker, gauging his response. Tufted ears flitted back against her skull indecisively before springing forward again — she would not force Komodo to bring Driftwood along. It was enough that he had not driven the boy away during Seelie’s panicked flight from Wheeling Gull Isle. Instead, she would find something useful for the younger wolf to do. She knew that she and Komodo needed desperately to reconcile, but she measured his anger — past and potential — and Aditya’s heartbreak against her reserves of energy and compassion and found herself lacking. In lieu of a private conference, she offered the medicine man a soft and wavering whine of gratitude, and tried on a timorous smile that felt a bit stiff.
They had a lot of work to do.
To the Morningsiders, “Grayday, Lavender,” she bade sweetly, “please t-trust Komodo.” She’d meant to say, “Please follow Komodo,” but her heart had dashed ahead of her tongue. See, deep down, she knew the Angakkuq was trustworthy where it really counted, and her plea had stemmed from that. Whether she was trying to convince the Morningsiders or herself was something even she didn’t know. Her Neptune eyes were troubled as they lingered upon the Vedmak, and for a moment it seemed she might speak — but she bit her lip on whatever she was going to say and sought to reassure Moorhen and Driftwood with a low whuffle and a swish of her feathered tail.
Smoothing her tongue across the latter’s brow, “Take food — um,” she stammered, stumbling over her words with weariness. “Come,” she urged him simply, her cerulean eyes turning sheepishly to Moorhen. “Moorhen, good girl, come? P-Please?” she entreated. The three of them would bring some of the land prey from the caches to a forest copse where the Morningsiders could bed down comfortably, and try them on seafood tomorrow. It had been such a long journey — she thought they would be happier with warmblooded fare. She began to lead the group inland.
After an abbreviated tour with Komodo — mainly to Morningside Moor, so the honored guests would be able to see the territory that had been named in their honor — Grayday and Lavender were led to a small cleft of mossy earth where Coelacanth, Driftwood, and Moorhen had laid out a feast of land prey and pelagic fare. Father and daughter slept side-by-side, with seawolf sentinels posted discreetly about to ensure they would not be disturbed or awoken before the natural course of their slumber. Only when she had seen to their comfort did Coelacanth quietly excuse herself, Moorhen at her back — and she ensured that the pair wanted for nothing during their stay.
They had a lot of work to do.
To the Morningsiders, “Grayday, Lavender,” she bade sweetly, “please t-trust Komodo.” She’d meant to say, “Please follow Komodo,” but her heart had dashed ahead of her tongue. See, deep down, she knew the Angakkuq was trustworthy where it really counted, and her plea had stemmed from that. Whether she was trying to convince the Morningsiders or herself was something even she didn’t know. Her Neptune eyes were troubled as they lingered upon the Vedmak, and for a moment it seemed she might speak — but she bit her lip on whatever she was going to say and sought to reassure Moorhen and Driftwood with a low whuffle and a swish of her feathered tail.
Smoothing her tongue across the latter’s brow, “Take food — um,” she stammered, stumbling over her words with weariness. “Come,” she urged him simply, her cerulean eyes turning sheepishly to Moorhen. “Moorhen, good girl, come? P-Please?” she entreated. The three of them would bring some of the land prey from the caches to a forest copse where the Morningsiders could bed down comfortably, and try them on seafood tomorrow. It had been such a long journey — she thought they would be happier with warmblooded fare. She began to lead the group inland.
After an abbreviated tour with Komodo — mainly to Morningside Moor, so the honored guests would be able to see the territory that had been named in their honor — Grayday and Lavender were led to a small cleft of mossy earth where Coelacanth, Driftwood, and Moorhen had laid out a feast of land prey and pelagic fare. Father and daughter slept side-by-side, with seawolf sentinels posted discreetly about to ensure they would not be disturbed or awoken before the natural course of their slumber. Only when she had seen to their comfort did Coelacanth quietly excuse herself, Moorhen at her back — and she ensured that the pair wanted for nothing during their stay.